The first time Gramma took me was the first time I'd ever been to a bakery. I fell in love the moment I walked in the door. So many wonderful smells filled the room and numerous delicious-looking treats sat behind the glass compartments. I wanted it all. I wanted to live there and wake up every morning to new smells and new breads and cookies and everything else a bakery had to offer me.
I had such a hard time deciding what I wanted that my Gramma had to decide for me. She chose cheese sticks. Soft, skinny loaves of bread covered with baked-on cheese. It was wonderful! Whoever got the idea to put bread and cheese together was a genius in my eyes. I wanted another after I'd finished mine but Gramma said the rest were for the others who would be home for lunch.
I always asked my Gramma when we went grocery shopping after that if we could go to the bakery and she always said "we'll see" with a smile. We never did go back and I haven't a clue which bakery it was.
When I was in my first year of college, I moved in with a spunky girl named Jessi. We would go grocery shopping together and ride home on the bus with our backpacks full of food. On one of these ventures we decided we'd only speak to eachother during the trip in English accents. We probably made complete fools out of ourselves but we were thoroughly entertained.
We came to the bakery section and Jessi spotted the cheese sticks and started loading them into a plastic bag. My long lost love! I'd forgotten about them. We started devouring them on the way home, careful to save some for later, and chatted to each other on the bus in our faux english accents.
Just before we got off the bus to go home and eat more cheese sticks, some teenaged girl who'd been sitting behind us asked Jessi if she knew Harry Potter. Without skipping a beat or pulling a face, she simply said, "no", and we went on our merry way, giggling and immitating the girl on the bus.
Oh, cheese sticks; how I love thee.
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